Vol. 2, Post #85 Diane Keaton Goddammit

What a woman. But for me, it's the "off" roles that really land. My sex tips for girls* (*girls who are holding on to mid-life by a thread). A dating odyssey for Young Olds (people with readers).

I was home sick this past Saturday night, and not entirely upset about it, as I’ve been traveling and running around with clients like a maniac, and just as I finished repotting some of the begonias that I brought in from the porch as the first frost set in (cuntry livin’), I heard the news. Diane. 79 years old.

Fuuuuuuuck, I said quietly to myself. I rarely comment or post about celebrity deaths on social media, because what can I offer that hasn’t been said? Over the recent decade, I remember feeling truly gutted about both Philip Seymour Hoffman and Robin Williams, so much so that I wrote a brief note about each of their work and what it meant to me. But this feels so very, very different. To me, Diane Keaton’s death marks the end of an era for a certain kind of unmarried woman.

Many women in the Young Old demographic will cite Diane’s roles in 1996’s “The First Wives Club” or 2003’s “Something’s Gotta Give” as favorites. Both films showcase the zany/kooky loveable oddball quirks that Diane effortlessly brings to life in these flicks, some of which are very recognizable to me and any number of my Dear Readers, in our own romantic behavior and love lives. Here, Diane’s characters often default to obsession, self-degradation, dismissive “oh don’t mind me” swatting away of hands or hearts that are there to help, you know, all the things we hate in ourselves. Basically, both films encapsulate what it often means to be an aging woman in polite society today: slightly overlooked but still pithy, still sardonic, and still hoping for the male gaze to settle upon her.

In “Wives,” Annie ends up having the last laugh on her ex-husband along with her divorced gal pals, all the while busting out of her self-imposed shell, while Erica in “Give” makes a fine, fine, FINE life for herself before realizing she is hopelessly in love with a man not fit to lick the sand off her toes as they stroll her Hamptons private beach. Naturally, Said Man (Nicholson, no less) rises to the occasion, but we still have to suffer through some rather cringe-y moments (including a short-lived romance with Keanu Reeves — and don’t get me started on Frances McDormand as the wildly under-utilized Zoe, looking every inch a sexy mofo Young Old).

Both of these films are…fine.

For me — and I’ve written about this before, in April 2024, in this post entitled “Why I’m Like This,” the Diane of my dreams is the one I watched in both “Interiors” and “Shoot The Moon.” Yes, there is “Looking For Mr. Goodbar” and yes there is “The Godfather” trilogy, but this was womanhood the way I fantasized it would be when I was a kid and first glimpsed these movies — messy, bloody, selfish at times, sexy, smoldering, full of desire and imperfections. With all due respect to Nancy Meyers and the sets she creates in her fantasy flicks (holy shit, those kitchens alone!), the Diane who gets me hot is not that Diane. It’s this one.

Two scenes from “Shoot The Moon” below if you’ve not seen it — to begin, her first weekend alone after her estranged husband takes their FOUR daughters for a weekend. Husband has left her for another woman and while the affair was not a secret, the leaving hits hard. Diane as Faith in this 1982 Alan Parker film both embraces her newfound freedom — an uninterrupted bath and a joint in the middle of the day?) as well as perfectly embodies the scorn and anger and grief of a woman tossed aside.

But lest you think Faith will be lonely for long, enter Frank the contractor, played by a dewy-as-fuck Peter Weller. This scene forever cemented my love of The Rolling Stones. She’s just cooked them dinner. She’s alone with a man who is not her husband. Now what?

I combed the internet for a reasonably edited clip from “Interiors” in which Diane’s lauded poet and writer Renata stands up, again and again, to her drunk and prone to violence husband Frederick, a lesser writer. Clips (beyond the trailer) for this circa 1978 film are slim to none. You can watch this one below till about 3:45, at which time, it shifts direction to Frederick with one of Renata’s sisters. But the summary in the part I want you to enjoy? Renata is having NONE of Frederick’s drunken pity party, nor entertaining his request to stay home and wallow in misery after a bad book review. In a gorgeously over-the-top film based around a family that is shattering in a million pieces, “Interiors” shows Renata as a writer first, a woman second, a sister third, but a wife and mother? Not sure if those roles even make her list of how she defines herself. Somewhat of a breakthrough role for the time. To say nothing of the, well, the film’s interiors.

Why are these roles important? They REEK of imperfections, of longing, of frustration, of imaginary foes and very real rivalries. And they are small films, compared to the big booming “Reds” or even “Father of the Bride.” They show Diane as breakable, not bendable, and they are compelling as hell.

I rewatched both “Moon” and “Interiors” this weekend. Heady, juicy, raw stuff indeed (let me not forget to shout out an incredibly nuanced performance by Maureen Stapleton as the woman who brings Renata’s father back to life, a sexy, grab-‘em-by-the-balls divorcee in a tight red dress who can pull off card tricks and serve up an extra slice of cheesecake because “live a little.” She is the beating heart of this film in many ways — aging not with grace but with vavavavoom. No wonder everyone hates her.). She is a GRADUATE of the Young Old Academy.

Ok, so back to Lady Di.

We, by the way, also watched “Give” (me and a couple of friends, gay men). As in the past, it underwhelmed me. She looks ridiculous next to Keanu, although she looks luminous next to Jack (is that on purpose?) Also, since some of you are snoring through this right now, asking, “Where’s the stuff about fucking?” I will add that while I would love to get royally railed by Keanu in his earlier films like The River’s Edge, I wouldn’t want this Keanu to touch me with with a ten-foot-dick. SO milquetoast.

Now, Peter Weller…WELL….

But in case you’re lusting for a Diane fix that doesn’t involve wanting to stick your head in the oven, there’s my OTHER fave…“Baby Boom.”

This was Diane’s 1987 turn as career superwoman JC Wiatt, who trades shoulder pads for muck boots when she inherits a distant cousin’s orphaned baby and makes a rash move to leave her oh-so-80s high rise NYC apartment and relocate to Life In The Slow Lane in Vermont. The film is not only madcap hilarious, but contains a rant that every at-end-of-her-rope Young Old woman can relate to in one way or another. And for that matter, who CAN’T relate to just chucking it all and running away to Vermont? Especially when you end in the arms of Sam Shepard?

I know this space has been reserved for stories about sex, love, dating, and all the highs and lows of going ‘round and ‘round on this carnival ride called midlife with a bullet. Sometimes, I like to get naked with y’all. This week, I’m feeling like I want to cozy up with you on the sofa as we honor someone — Diane — who did midlife and beyond HER WAY. No husbands, although her romantic ties included years with Al Pacino, Warren Beatty, and Woody Allen (and how ‘bout that Al Pacino quote last week about how he regretted not marrying her? Who the fuck cares what Al Pacino regrets?) No desire to play house. She enjoyed motherhood as a single parent and famously said “I’ve had a lot of independence, and nobody’s telling me what to do. I had a mother who encouraged that and helped me achieve the things I wanted to achieve. I’ve followed the paths I’ve wanted to follow. I like redoing houses, I like architecture, I like visuals, I like fashion, I like all of it. But I haven’t had a date in 35 years and I’m fine with that.”

While I most certainly love Love and likewise, adore Sex and all the messy stuff that comes along with both of those things, this week, I had a pretty great time watching clips of Diane just do the stuff that Diane enjoyed. Like this one: an Instagram post of the time that Diane attended Ralph Lauren’s first-ever West Coast show in Pasadena, on October 13, 2022. As the post indicates, Diane was, by far, the guest having the most fun. She waved at and greeted every model that walked the show.

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I think that’s all I have to say this week. Oh, I’ll be back with more of the sweet and sticky side of dating next week — I am pretty besotted with someone and it’s inching along in the most lovely of ways. I haven’t quite figured out how I want to talk about it here, but I’m chewing on a few ideas to share with you.

La dee dah la dee dah la la, Diane…you certainly left your mark.